Successful businesses typically possess either a sense of history or a sense of humor.
Both those are found in one of Hood River’s newest businesses.
Brimstone Boulders is unique to Hood River: A climbing gym created inside what used to be a church.
Turn to page B1 for the full story.
Space in Kaleidoscope restricted my ability to write about the sense of humor owners Conor Byrne and Jen Altschul, and their staff, clearly convey.
And it needs to be pointed out that the new owners of the venerable former Asbury United Methodist Church have created an entirely new use of the former worship space while giving it the respect it deserves.
“Behave like a decent human,” is the first item in the Code of Responsibility sign prominently displayed at Brimstone.
“2. Don’t take yourself too seriously. Really.” And here is where you can see the owners’ adherence to the McMenamin’s model of playful reverence for transformed spaces:
“We’re in an 1897/1912 repurposed church, pulling very hard on plastic holds bolted to plywood. This activity is inherently ridiculous.”
No running, keep the pads clean, keep your shirt on and “Keep yelling at a minimum: there’s an echo” are some of the other rules.
The church was formally decommissioned in 2013, and I was there for what was a solemn ceremony, a sad one for long-time members of the church, which blended with a local Lutheran congregation and is now Spirit of Grace on Tucker Road. Members and friends of Asbury still hold a connection to the beautiful building, and I like to think their feelings would be upheld in seeing the vibrant place it is today. Yes, the pews are gone, save one that provides comfortable seating, and almost all of the organ is in storage (Conor Byrne said they are considering future uses). Some of the pipes line the facing of the reception counter, and the organ keyboard is the first thing you see when you walk in, honorably repurposed as a counter to sign in before using the walls.
The organ played songs of reverence and adherence to healthy, uplifting rules of life, and now the keyboard serves as a platform for people to say they agree to the same kind of thing.
And the Brimstone owners faithfully displayed their respect for the quirky history of the building in several ways: Look beneath the keyboard plexiglass and see the typed 3-by-5 card signed by an organist with a special love for the instrument, one Jason L. Grable on 3/18/89. The card reads: “A few points to ponder about this organ: 1. When turning off the organ, please leave the express shoe in the ‘open’ or depressed position. This helps keep the swell in tune with the Great.
2. Use the crescendo pedal at your own risk. Some stops will stick on after it is closed, due to the age of the mechanism (it’s not repairable without console dismantling). 3. Note that the Dulciana on the Great is tuned a little out of tune. This is deliberate, since the voice is not useful on the Great, being overshadowed by the rest of the voices. It is intended to be used with the swell Salicional coupled to the Great, and provides a very useful Celeste string combination for quiet music. I felt this would be much more useful.”
I have no idea what a Dulciana, Express Shoe are, but you don’t have to know; you just read Mr. Grable’s notes to get a sense of the evident beloved personality of the old organ.
A placard, undated but likely from the 1950s, memorializes Pastor J.J. Patton with his family’s gift of “the public address system and hearing aids.”
The stained glass windows remain the star of the space, and they will always remain, complete with the names of people to whom they were dedicated: Oscar Stranahan, Abby Mills, “Wm. Boorman and wife.”
The very branding image of Brimstone honors the key stained glass motif, the gripping hands of a woman climbing a rock shaped like the cross. Pastor David King of Spirit of Grace described it as “visualizing the idea that God is the solid rock that we can cling to in turbulent times,” specifically Psalm 46: “God is our refuge and strength, a help always near in times of great trouble.”
The Brimstone name is a reflection of the history of the building, though the facility has no religious affiliation other than a reverence for what the adopted space can still mean. If you visit, make note of the way climbing wall designers Vertical Solutions used arcs of dark wood that mimic the rich earth tones of the bead board that graces the ceilings, woodwork that was mostly covered by drop ceilings in the 1950s and 1960s, and discovered in mint condition when the von Flotows started renovations. The new design flatteringly imitates it is one of the sweeter features of the revival of the old church interior, albeit with a totally new purpose.
The von Flotows purchased the church from the Methodists and with contractor SMP Construction did a solid stage one job of getting it ready for future generations. Byrne and Altschul have in turn invested heavily in the facility, and the careful work of Orange Construction shows. Brightly lit during use hours that are increasingly busy, the building glows, and that will only increase: plans are, Byrne said, to replace the aged plexiglass exterior coverings that dull the impact of the windows when lit from within.
That change will only enhance the bright future of this transformed building.
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